When We First Met
by Le Creationist
Summary: A collection of CJ/Jed short stories. Flashbacks, reinterpretations and flashforwards.
1. School

Disclaimer: I don't own the West Wing or its characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: Alright, so this will be a collection of short stories that I've tried to link up although they probably won't necessarily be posted in chronological order. They are a mixture of reinterpretations of scenes from the episodes as well as flashbacks to the pre-campaign days and flashforwards to a future that I've dreamed up for CJ/Jed post Presidency. Some are fluffy, some are angsty, some are serious.

The titles of each installment are prompts from another author on LiveJournal, **38gnihsurc, **who has written some brilliant CJ/Jed fics. This is the link to the list of prompts that I've used.

http:/ 38gnihsurc. livejournal. com/ 16433. html# cutid1

Okay, I'm done. Enjoy!

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(This was based on CJ calling Jed "Professor Incoherent" in the Season 5 episode, "Talking Points." A possible backstory to the nickname, hehe.)

88. School

She didn't know why she'd bothered going to his office hours. She prided herself on being able to hang in there during the driest of lectures and she'd been prepared to do exactly that when she learned that her professor was an East coast economist, probably an erudite snob with brown elbow patches sewn into his blazer. Suffice it to say that it was a pleasant surprise when she saw Professor Josiah Bartlet was actually one of those professors who could not only be personally engaging, but make his students feel a little if not the same enthusiasm that he had for his subject.

He was going to be teaching one semester of intermediate macroeconomic theory at Berkeley, at the invitation of a close friend and colleague in the economics department. He thought he'd hate being so far from Abbey and his daughters but secretly he enjoyed the weather in California and teaching was fun no matter where he was.

Not to mention, he thought as he stared at the young lady in front of him, he was meeting all sorts of interesting students. He knew he was smiling a bit stupidly. Strangely enough, he couldn't help it.

"Miss Cregg, you do realize you haven't actually asked me anything yet?" Bartlet asked, his amusement peeking through his sharp blue eyes from behind his glasses.

She actually blushed and sat up, a reaction he found indescribably endearing.

"Oh, sorry sir. I-uh…I was a little lost on the point you made in lecture about predatory lending to subprime borrowers—"

As he watched her speak, he detected a little bit of an Ohio accent. He noticed she would reach for her ear and tuck her hair behind it mid speech, even when it was already tucked in. She was a political science grad student but she was required to take a few economics courses. He'd met with her maybe only twice or thrice in the past two months but she stood out because of her insightful questions as well as her appearance.

She had wildly curling red hair that she kept short and she was very tall, a good head and then some taller than him. She must have been twenty four or twenty five.

When Bartlet returned to Dartmouth in New Hampshire, he'd sit in his office and occasionally when there was a knock at his door, he'd expect to see a gangly, fresh faced spitfire armed with acerbic wit and a wide smile. Whoever it actually was would always wonder why he was grinning like that before continuing with their main point of business. This process occurred enough times to earn Bartlet the less than flattering nickname amongst the undergraduates of "Professor Incoherent."


	2. Green

A/N: Okay so you know how CJ was said to be sick during the last Thanksgiving in the season 2 episode "Shibboleth"? This is what I imagined happened over her Thanksgiving weekend. FLUFF abounds, hehe.

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014. Green

"You've gotta be kidding me…" CJ muttered when she heard the incessant pounding on her front door. The first few minutes, she simply thought it was her head pounding but sooner or later she realized that someone was actually knocking on the door.

"CJ! You in there?" Called a muffled voice from the other side of the door.

She tentatively got out of bed, wincing as her achy muscles protested and her head swam with the sudden change in position. This was possibly the worst flu of her life, she thought darkly as she padded to the door to answer it.

"CJ, I've been knocking for a good ten minutes—do you know…" Jed halted abruptly at the sight of his elusive Press Secretary.

He knew she got sick on Wednesday so she wasn't at work for the Thanksgiving day festivities but no one warned him she was _this _sick. Her nose was Rudolph red, her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and she was wearing what looked like four layers of clothing plus her bathrobe.

"Dear God, you look awful." He stated simply.

Apparently that was NOT what you're supposed to say to a woman even when her appearance warranted the adjective, she looked like she was about to slam the door in his face. Luckily this was prevented by Ron Butterfield, who greeted her appropriately given that he'd just seen the result of the President's greeting.

"I was sleeping." Her voice was hoarse but Jed didn't miss the crankiness in her tone.

"I'm sorry, Claudia but I wanted to check on you. I brought you some food from Thursday night's dinner."

"What day is today?" She asked groggily.

"Saturday, sweetheart."

He tensed when Ron turned to look at him in a briefly candid moment of surprise before he resumed his usual stoicism. Jed ignored the other man and slipped past CJ with said food in his hands.

"Ron, I'm gonna be here awhile alright?"

"Yes sir."

The agent nodded, undoubtedly taken aback with the unusual situation of guarding the President while he was nursing his sick Press Secretary whom he happened to refer to as 'sweetheart.' Nonetheless, Ron shut the front door behind him and stood at attention.

"Have you eaten today? Taken any medication?" He asked with concern as she trudged to her sofa and promptly collapsed into the cushions.

She frowned, as if trying to recall.

"I've been sleeping continuously. I…I think I took Tylenol but I don't remember when."

"So your blood sugar's low, you're dehydrated and you've not taken any meds." Jed said gravely.

"Well when you put it that way—"

"Alright, I'm gonna heat up some of the soup I brought, you're gonna eat even if I have to spoon feed you, then you're gonna take medication."

She closed her eyes and listened as he puttered around her kitchen. She supposed she ought to be enjoying this; she knew he was determined to nurse her back to health. Usually, she just sweated out colds alone in bed with the TV tuned into CNN. He came back to her and she scooted over a bit to make room for him on the couch.

She thought she wasn't very hungry but suddenly when she vaguely smelled the aroma of the soup, she immediately felt her mouth water.

"That must be a good sign, right? That I can smell again?" She joked as she sniffled a little.

He patiently offered her a spoonful of pumpkin soup and watched as she opened her mouth and gulped it down. She took a moment to swallow the soup, savoring the warmth as it soothed her throat. It wasn't long before the bowl as well as the glass of water he brought her was empty. Jed returned to the kitchen where he washed the bowl and spoon with hot water and dish soap to sterilize them well. He refilled her glass so she could take her meds.

He found her dozing off, with a pillow hugged to her chest. He woke her gently and coaxed her to take NyQuil with a sip of water. She followed his instructions but he knew she wasn't fully awake, judging from the utter compliance she was displaying.

"Let's get you to bed, sweetheart."

The process of getting her off the couch would have been amusing to say the least, her long limbs and current lack of coordination made it a bit of a challenge but they made it to her bedroom in one piece. He eased her onto the bed where the sheets were rumpled and he could see that she really had been sleeping for a couple of days.

He pulled the comforter over her snugly and brushed her hair off of her sweaty forehead. There were tissues all over the floor so he bent to pick them up and throw them in the trash. He turned off the TV and shut off the lights.

He stood in the hallway outside her bedroom, debating on what he should do now. A moment later, he went to inform Ron.

CJ opened her eyes, feeling marginally better. It was daytime now, the gentle morning light peeked through the curtains of her bedroom windows. She stretched slowly, sighing as she felt the knots in her shoulders.

"Good morning."

She was startled when she turned to face Jed Bartlet, who'd looked like he'd been sleeping beside her. Her astonishment gave way to a glowing smile when she corrected her previously held conviction that she only dreamed the President had come to her apartment to nurse her back to health.

"You're really here," She murmured, her hand coming up to stroke his cheek.

In this unguarded moment, he covered the back of her hand with his own and returned her smile.

"Well, sweetheart, you were looking a little green yesterday. How could I leave you alone after seeing you like that?"

"Thank you." She said plainly, moving her thumb across his cheek.

He held her hand, marveling at how something as nasty as the flu brought them closer.


	3. What?

(Based on Manchester pt 2 conversation with Abbey)

077. What?

They were in the limo, sitting quietly until Jed broke the silence with an odd question.

"Did you know that hardly any of the guys who went to the moon are married to the same people as they were before they went there?" He was fiddling with his pant leg and staring out the window at the blurry green of the surrounding hills.

Abbey frowned.

"What?"

Jed felt a tiny bead of sweat trickle down between his shoulder blades. He thought of the red haired girl he met twenty years ago in sunny California, who was now his press secretary and with whom he was becoming increasingly infatuated. He slapped himself mentally as he stared at Abbey's suspicious face, now was not the time to broach this subject, not when they were on their way to a press event where the two of them were supposed to look like they were mending their relationship.

"I'm just saying it could have been a lot worse. I could have been an astronaut."


	4. If

082. If

CJ had always wondered ever since that embarrassing book had been published by an angry ex-White House staffer if the President had indeed gone through special measures to try and conceive a son with Abbey. She'd been forced to ask him to confirm certain details, yes, but behind his snappiness she sensed there was more to it than that.

They were on and off again, to put it simply. She had no desire to quantify any aspect of their relationship but sometimes she did wonder what life would be like if they got serious. Would he want kids with her? Hell, did _she_ even want kids? She almost killed the goldfish Danny gave her.

If they ever got serious, which she was never expecting to happen anyway, but if they ever did, she thought kids would be a life experience she wanted and she'd work on the maternal instinct from there. A rambunctious little boy for him to run around with, or maybe a girl who'd grow to be taller than him too…There was just one word in the way of making this happen. If.


	5. Not Enough

022. Not Enough

He was at a loss as to what to say when she screamed at him not to lecture her. He stood behind his makeshift podium and she was standing there with her back turned and a overwhelmingly hurt expression on her face. He didn't need to see it to know that it was there.

She couldn't muster up the will to say anything more. She knew if she tried it would most likely be along the lines of a colorful expletive, which was obviously unacceptable when addressing one's boss much less the President of the United States. So she was caught between a rock and a hardplace, the desire to stab him in the back arrested by her absolute loyalty to this man.

"You have this disease…And you've been lying about it. It's one thing not to disclose it to the American public…To find out from Toby was—" She swallowed and half turned, "I don't know anymore Jed."

He put his glasses down and walked toward her but she recoiled, her brow furrowed and her eyes full of tears.

"I'm sorry."

She glared at him furiously.

"What's to stop me from walking away, _right_ now? I'm tired of all this, I'm tired of taking the bullets, I'm tired of trying to patch something up that's never gonna be whole again. I'm tired of being gutted in front of news cameras every day—I'm tired."

He wanted to protest, tell her that she didn't mean what she was saying. The only thing was he was quite certain in his gut that she, in fact, did. Just then Charlie interrupted and said that CJ was needed elsewhere.

She turned her gaze back toward him and he simply said, "I need you too, CJ."

She was still angry but he could see that she was reconsidering. He knew though, that his meager apology was not nearly enough to soothe her. She was his lover and confidante and informing her via a third party was perhaps the most callous and cowardly way he could have handled it.

"Thank you, Mr. President."


	6. Lovers

Thank you sunclouds, for your review and feedback! I am humbled and honored that you read my fics even though you're not a CJ/Jed shipper, so thanks again, and there's a couple more chapters to be posted today.

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(Pre-Campaign)

023. Lovers

It could have happened in a more auspicious way, she supposed. They were tangled in sweaty cotton sheets in his hotel room, basking in the aftermath of a glorious night. In a weird as hell, roundabout, 'the Gods have one fucked up sense of humor' kind of way, they'd crossed paths again.

She had stayed in California after graduating with a Master's in political science, she'd revealed as they lay together. She was working at a public relations firm, earning more money a year than she knew what to do with from a job she wasn't particularly happy in. She marveled at the timing, that she should receive such a job offer the day she was fired from Triton Day. He'd revealed that he kept tabs on her progress over the years and was surprised that she chose to promote movies and silly girl bands instead of using her prestigious education in a political career.

Jed caressed the smooth skin of her hip, wondering how things would pan out. Leo hired her as press secretary for the Bartlet for America campaign on Toby's advice but neither of them knew that he and CJ were already acquainted. Obviously, she hadn't said anything because when they were 'introduced' she acted as if she'd never seen him before so he'd followed her act.

It was only in private after his speech that she tentatively approached him. Like she thought he forgot who she was. He remembered, alright.


	7. Fire

A/N: A re-interpreted version of the scene with CJ/Jed in the Season 2 episode "The Midterms."

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052. Fire

She knew what he was doing even before she could see him, the scent of cigarette smoke lingered in the air just before she stopped to knock on the Residence bedroom door. She waited for a beat and then opened the door when she heard the President's voice rang out.

Jed was seated on the couch with both TV's on and a slew of newspapers on the coffee table and the floor. He was still paying close attention to the school board race in Manchester and the fact that his old rival was winning was cause for him to light a cigarette, something he hadn't done in quite a while. He watched CJ walk toward him with a dubious expression on her face.

"Charlie said you wanted to see me, sir?" She came to stand behind the armchair opposite him.

"Yeah, why had there been no press mention of the fact that Elliot Rouche was an opponent of mine in New Hampshire?"

CJ stared at him with a touch of exasperation that made him laugh inwardly. There was a little delay to her reply, probably because she was coaching herself not to blow up in his face. He raised the cigarette to his lips and inhaled, almost defiantly.

"Elliot Rouche is the man who…"

"He's running for a seat on the school board in up in Manchester—"

"Yes, sir, I'm sure it's gotten some local coverage, I can have the news office—"

"Why isn't it more than local?"

Jed watched her exasperation grow.

"It's a school board seat."

"It's a human interest story!"

"Not a very interesting one." She stated flatly, watching him smoke.

After he exhaled, he suddenly leaned forward with his elbows on his knees with an eager look on his face. Most of the time, CJ would say that his school boy enthusiasm was an endearing quality of his but when he got his head wrapped around minor things that really had no business captivating the President of the United States, she found it to be something of a nuisance.

"I'm saying… if anyone in the Press Room wanted to do this story, I would comment on the record."

CJ sighed as if realizing that puncturing this particular balloon was going to take some effort. They were all reacting to the aftermath of the Rosslyn shooting differently, and the President's obsession with this school board election was absurd but almost certainly his way of channeling his stress. She moved toward him and sat in the space between the armrest of the couch and his body, nonplussed by the closeness of their positions. She saw him shift a little in his seat; clearly, she still had some effect on him.

"Sir, the President can't publicly take sides in a local school board election."

"Why can't he?"

Her eyes grew a little wider.

"Because, it's not done, it's not fair, it's personal-"

As she went through the laundry list of why he couldn't do this, he scoffed and took a sip of brandy from the glass that was on the coffee table. He put down the glass, the sound of it clinking against the wood preceded his lengthy albeit quiet diatribe about men of faith, Republicans, Democrats and how he supposedly didn't care about winning back the House at this point in time.

She told him she didn't believe that, she knew he was just having a moment.

"…Elliot Rouche is polling at _fifty three percent_. He's polling at fifty three percent! He's the front runner."

He handed her a copy of an article declaring what he just said to be true. She accepted it and glanced over it briefly, wondering what sort of crisis of conscience he was going through and what she could do to move his mind elsewhere. She could feel him looking expectantly at her while her eyes skimmed the article and she moved her leg slightly so that it nestled against his.

She put the paper down on the coffee table and sighed, "Then, that's how it is. Often times in a democracy, other people win."

He nodded, frowning but grounded in reality once more. CJ glanced at the cigarette still in his right hand. It was just too tempting to pass up. She reached across him, her body close enough for him to smell her perfume, and took the cigarette from him. He remained perfectly still as she took a long, saucy drag and then handed it back to him.

He watched her exhale a small cloud of smoke then lean back into the sofa, her head rested on the back of it.

"Well, it was just a thought. I mean—obviously you're right." He rambled, still taken aback by her brazenness. She hadn't been this personal with him in a very long time and the re-emergence of her flirtatiousness was sorely missed, even if it was being used as a tool to derail him from a silly tangent.

"Do you want to talk about what's bothering you, sir?" She asked softly.

He followed her lead and leaned back, his hand seeking and capturing hers as he raised their shared cigarette to his lips once more.


	8. Enemies

(Season 6 ish.)

022. Enemies

CJ's suggestion that the President have salad for lunch instead of steak and potatoes was the final straw that broke the camel's back. Abbey had been cajoling him to eat healthier for years and he'd steadily resisted her when he could afford to, though one attempt by CJ Cregg had him eating organic baby spinach and light balsamic vinaigrette at the drop of a hat. Abbey went to CJ's office afterwards and confronted her.

CJ calmly explained that the President wasn't the only one she was encouraging to eat healthier, just a few hours ago she'd chastised Josh for downing donuts like he was still eighteen and challenged him to avoid junk food at the office. She was doing this because of Leo's heart attack, not because she enjoyed exercising more influence than the First Lady had on the President while the First Lady was in earshot. CJ thought that Abbey would understand this, being a thoracic surgeon and all.

All of this went mainly ignored. CJ figured with a sinking sense of despair that she and the First Lady were officially adversaries whether she liked it or not.


	9. Summer

Perhaps a bit predictable...eh, what do you think?

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063. Summer

Summer in DC was sometimes mistakable for summer in an equatorial country, the humidity made it difficult to breathe. CJ was utterly miserable in her office as the air conditioning was not functioning thanks to a shorted circuit. She fanned herself with a manila folder as she attempted to read the paperwork on her desk but when she read the same sentence five times, she gave up and sat back in her chair.

"CJ, what the hell is going on with the ventilation in this building?"

She sighed, closing her eyes and beginning to count to ten. The President always had the worst reaction to freak summer heat waves like this and he was punchier than usual, which meant that she would be the only one left in a five mile radius to deal with him. Even Debbie made herself conveniently scarce.

Just when she opened her eyes and began to formulate a response, she noticed he'd stopped in his tracks and was staring.

"What?" She barked irritably.

Then she followed his eyes down and realized why he was currently slack-jawed. She'd taken off her silk shirt in an attempt to cool off and was left wearing a rather skimpy white tank top that left little to the imagination. She bit her lip and stifled a laugh. Well, at least she'd discovered a new way to render him speechless.

"I'll…I'll be in my office."

He nearly tripped over his own feet on the way back.


	10. Broken

(Post presidency)

Warning: Angst galore.

071. Broken

There wasn't a way for him to reach out to her—she'd gotten so good at skirting around her true feelings that even he was convinced she was okay. It was all the more reason for him to feel as guilty as he did, and God knew he had enough of that emotion to last a thousand lifetimes. But this was one of those times where he just couldn't let the guilt go. Leo was there for him when…when it happened. It seemed that he was obtuse to the point of injury to both of them. Her indomitable approach to most things had faltered ever so slightly, her pain hidden beneath a mask of false cheer—_it was all for him._ He would realize later that because he'd been through this before with Abbey, that he had become somewhat desensitized to this sort of tragedy. In truth, CJ had been inconsolable behind her despondency.

He came to realize the humiliation she felt, after the initial excitement of informing him, and then to have their dream dashed so abruptly in one evening of bitter tears and crimson stained bedsheets. Her body failed them, she resented her age, and she feared he would leave. It was these thoughts, however irrational they may have been, that propelled her through the next month and into a vicious cycle of self loathing that threatened to consume her.

One afternoon he came home to find her curled up on their bed, incoherent with tears, he was floored. He lay down next to her and held her until she cried herself to sleep.

"I thought you were disappointed." She'd admitted in a whisper quieter than the footsteps of a butterfly. Her hand beneath his trembled ever so slightly.

"No," He said roughly, holding her close. "I love you, and you could _never_ disappoint me. We'll have another chance, Claudia."

She turned to look at him, his sincerity and felt the warmth of his embrace.


End file.
